


The battle of the prison.

by JaybirdTheAuthor



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft - Fandom, mcyt
Genre: Dream is possessed by a Dreamon AU, Fighting, Gen, How Do I Tag, No Beta we die like Quackity keeps doing to techno, fight, havent written it in forever, im an action writer but suck at action, men with swords, monster fuckers probably think he’s hot, or men????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaybirdTheAuthor/pseuds/JaybirdTheAuthor
Summary: Me writing Dreamnap fighting because Sapnap is so strong and cool in the smp.All banter and actions are fiction and do not reflect the true morals of anyone involved.No romance.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 18





	The battle of the prison.

**Author's Note:**

> Pogchamp fighting but I suck at writing. Please enjoy

His head hung is low, Sapnap had realised in horror entering the place, his eyes scanning the bloody wound and his feet immediately rushing him to his side, his chest tight and unwilling to loosen as he lifted his head, watching the faded eyes and open mouth in absolute horror as tears start to run down the Mexicans face, barely whimpering, barely alive as his ghostly turned skin turns even paler. Sapnap’s words are missing, dying in his throat in favour of hearing the whimpers, how they slowly start turning into begging, ‘help me’ repeated in terrifyingly quiet screams as he holds on, watching how Quackity leans into him and coats him in blood, his friends blood, the arrow in his back clearly visible and showing he had been put here, showing he had not been shot where he found him sat against the wall.

“Who did this Quackity? WHO?” He asks, holding onto the crying boy with a death grip, the Mexican sobbing both in pain and fear.

“Techno, Dream told him to. He—I don’t wanna die Sapnap I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t want to die please pleASE PLEASE!” He screams, screeching as the American holds onto him, holds him close, the shorter boys breath slowing down significantly as Sapnap realises God he has one life left.

“HELP! SOMEONE HELP!” Sapnap screams, holding onto the boy for dear life, screaming and screaming until his lungs hurt, tears streaming down as the boy slows his breath and the blood starts soaking him further—Why didn’t he carry any healing potions, he should’ve had at least one, golden apples, anything to save him, “HELP PLEASE HELP PLEASE HELP PLEASE!”

It’s when he hears a dark laugh, a dark presence looming over them. It’s not a second he spares for it being anybody else, the laugh too recognisable to not be who he thinks he is,

“If you’re not going to help, please leave, Dream.”

“What makes you think I won’t kill you when you’re occupied? Makes you think having your back to me is a good idea?” The voice is chilling, almost darker than the laughter, one that makes Sapnap shiver and understand how Tommy apparently acted during exile. Dream is terrifying, speaking with such casualty about death that it’s almost hard to not believe that he has killed a hundred men, a thousand even. Dream speaks with the certainty of a killer and for a moment Sapnap remembers the battle of the Lake, how he died to him and how mocking it had left, how Dream had seemed so set on his destruction.

“Your morals,” Sapnap explains, earning a dry laugh as he slowly calms the whimpering Quackity, he’s not going to get somewhere with healing potions quickly enough and nobody is coming, this blood won’t be just a sacrifice but the last he ever sheds, “You dare not kill a man with his back to you.”

“You’re foolish!” Dream exclaims, coming closer with his axe drawn, a sick grin on his face, “I don’t give a fuck about anything, much less morality. I would’ve stopped long before your first death if such petty matters concerned me.”

“It’s not the ways of a powerful man to stab one in the back. Or shoot for that matter. How will they react when I tell them you killed two the same cowardly way? Will they bow at your power or laugh at your cowardice?” Sapnap asks, still not facing him, sensing the rage in the way he hears the axe hit the ground next to him, “If you want true fear of you to spread instead of word of cowardice I will spread, you heal him and duel me.”

“Why should I care for petty image?” Dream asks, clearly considering in his head, “Why would me coming out victorious against you the second time mean a thing? They are already aware I have the power against mortals like you. The blood God knows not to disrespect me, the mortals know not to oppose me, Wilbur has died puppeted by me and Tommy shall go the same way. What makes you worthy of a fight? What makes him worthy of healing for the fight?”

“I know of a revolution,” Sapnap is quick to lie, “An uprising bound to leave those you consider allies in ditches. Bound to make you unable to cause harm to another being ever again.”

“You promise to tell me if he gets healed and I win against you in a duel?” Dream asks, earning a nod that lets a hum of thought leave Dream, the moment growing short in Quackity’s choking, “Meet me at dawn near the prison. If you fail to show, I will make sure George is next to lose all his lives you hear me?”

“I do,” Sapnap speaks, letting go of Quackity with sticky blood making the process harder, Dream splashing a healing potion at him and forcing a god apple down his throat, the Mexican weak but alive as the wound slowly shuts itself, “No enchantments?”

“No enchantments,” Dream agrees, closing in on Sapnap, his figure hidden mostly by the netherite armor other than his what you could almost call face, a mask covering it to make it secret, to make it something you should never see, “Dawn, all weapons allowed.”

“No golden apples, gapples or potions either,” Sapnap expresses, immediately seeing the fault in only banning enchantments and absolutely nothing else—fixing it before he dies two times to this evil man.

“Fine,” Dream speaks after a moment, sighing, “No boosts on any level.”

Dream throws another potion at Quackity before facing Sapnap, not threatening but on his level almost, just for a moment, making Sapnap wonder about his humanity before he shuts himself out, hearing Quackity complain about his inability to see. Potion of blindness? Why?

As he wonders, maybe to show genuinity, Dream lifts his mask, Sapnap faced with a fa—can you call it a face? The tongue is impossibly long and slimy, unbelievably long mouth (up to his ears, Sapnap notes) holding it inside, two holes where the nose should be with scarring scattered all around the green skin, scaly and slimy looking. He dare not look at the eyes, maybe they would turn him to stone. He is sure of one thing, the burn scars and ripped off scales make it the ugliest creature he has ever had the displeasure of facing. But when he looks closer, the ripped places almost look like there is skin underneath, Sapnap feeling horror at the realisation this creature is not a creature but a man turned monster. Dream used to be human. Ignoring whatever he is now, he clearly used to be human, his now covered humanity used to be the full him.

“What happened to you?” Sapnap practically whispers, only slightly louder, Dream quickly throwing a potion at him before running off, leaving Sapnap sat there in complete and utter blindness thinking about what he just saw before George makes it over and hands him milk. He doesn’t dare tell him about the dawn of tomorrow, instead telling George he’s off to get neterite and letting himself walk round the Nether wondering, thinking about the face he saw earlier.  
_______________________________

Getting up before dawn is risky, zombies and skeletons still walk the Earth with freedom, lovingly covered by lady night’s roof from all harms she may manage for her undead, sun yet to make his appearance to hide the moon away, to come through the barrier and allow safety for those living, walking around hoping not to use their weapons for such petty business when a bigger fight has yet to rise.

He arrives minutes before dawn, his eyes barely making out the prison in the blue dark far away, thoughts racing in his mind as he brushes his fishing rod with his thumb. Could he? 

“We’re both early,” Dream speaks from behind him, Sapnap turning to look toward the thing behind him, the outlines of his mask thankfully there, “Do you want to wait longer or start now?”

“I want to ask about the rules, how does one win?”

“When the other dies,” Dream explains, Sapnap blinking away the image of the horrifying mouth grinning at him, “You have two left do you not?”

“You’re immortal,” Sapnap speaks slowly, looking up towards the thing in front of him, to face its mask, “We need some other rule, you cannot lose, giving yourself no ability to lose is immoral.”

“If I cared for morals, no blood would be shed. I’m sure you think the same, do you not? It is an action of no moral human to kill pet after pet for some weird self gain. Maybe sadism?”

“Most of my murder is accidental,” he explains, watching the other grab his neterite axe, gripping it harshly. For a moment, Sapnap wonders if the hands could break the wooden handle, snap it in half only with the harshness of the white knuckled grasp, if he could snap the material by himself when the axe looks new, like it has swung barely five times if that, “If you mean Fungi, I intended to hit the leash. Dumb idea, sure, but not sadism. Later on my actions were vengeful, never have I ever had a sadistic reason to harm one animal.”

“If I had any respect for you,” Dream speaks, slowly, hand running up and down his axe as he turns his head, “It would have just died. You’re saying you let your emotions start a conflict.”

“You started a conflict because of George’s hous—,” Sapnap starts, the taller laughing harshly and pointing his axe at him, the Texan quick to block with a shield.

“I don’t give a fuck about his house, I don’t give a fuck about George,” Dream says, stepping forward and swinging his axe towards the sky, hitting the middle of his shield perfectly even in the constantly brightening darkness, “I got Tommy out of L’manberg without making it seem senseless—I almost had him. I almost got him. I was so fucking close I could taste victory, I could taste the moment everyone was in my pocket, I could almost reach my prize for constantly fighting! I could feel it! I could sense it ALL around me, I could sense victory.”

“Tommy came to L’manberg,” Sapnap says, pulling his shield so the axe isn’t stuck anymore, “You didn’t win.”

“You know that’s where the fucking ghost bitch comes along,” Dream explains, hitting his axe against the ground so hard Sapnap can see the dirt fly all around, “HE stopped it—Fucking Wilbur stopped it! He was such a fucking bitch to deal with alive too. I heard there was a special place where men could go and emancipate the tyranny of their rulers. Such a fucking bitch to have to listen to this go on and on about his freedom as if it were a fucking thing he had achieved. It was my fucking land, he was making a mockery of me on my fucking soil. So I made fucking sure they’d spit on his fucking grave, I ruined him, I ruined him just for him to come back. And fuck I wish he’d just rot in fucking Hell because I had Tommy—.”

“Why are the discs such a big deal to you, Dream?” Sapnap asks, watching the mask suddenly face him with complete and utter fury, he notices even without seeing Dream’s expression, “Why do you care so much about two dis—?”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE DISCS!” Dream screams, dawn quickly approaching judging by the way the sun is almost visible behind Dream, light behind him brighter than elsewhere, giving him a glow whole heartedly undeserved, “All of you are so simple minded! Discs, pets, land—I don’t care. I care if I'm in power. If Tommy isn’t going to bow down to me I’ll dig my fucking heel in his back till he can’t stop, till it’s the only thing he can do, till he’s crying and fucking begging. IF TOMMY WON’T BOW TO ME HE WILL FUCKING DIE FOR IT! HE WILL THE EXAMPLE TO NOT FUCKING CROSS ME!”

“None of us bow down to you anymore!” Sapnap argues back, drawing his axe as the dawn approaches, not knowing when the light is high enough, “You ruined it! We thought you cared about us—we thought you cared for us and that’s why we followed you! You’re acting like you have everyone but it was three against everyone else—you would have lost if not for animals blocking us!”

“I wouldn’t have given a fuck if you killed Techno, I wouldn’t have cared if you took Phil’s only life. I wouldn’t have given a shit if you did anything to them,” Dream explains, Sapnap almost shudders imagining the twisted face ranting, shudders at the idea of the unbelievably wide mouth moving to the rhythm of his words, “They don’t matter. Techno is only alive as long as I need him—you’re all only alive as long as I allow. As long as I need. You’re not people, Sapnap, you’re my ant farm! When one of you gets too cocky, I drown you and watch you fucking struggle!”

“How do you plan on disposing of Technoblade, the blood god, when the time comes? Man is an anarchist, his sword is waiting for a chance to point to you. You’re metal, his values are a compass, it’s a matter of time he ruins you,” Sapnap asks, hoping to play time, watching the green figure get brighter the longer they’re faced.

“I hold his strings,” Dream says, brandishing his axe with obvious determination, waiting to attack, “I can cut them like a marionette.”

Before he can ask what this means, Dreams long legs have closed in on him and he has to lift his shield to dodge the direct attack line of the axe, his other arm swinging an axe towards Dreams legs for the other to step on his axe, grab the other end of it and pull like his life depends on it, lifting the axe from the shield with no struggle.

He’s a quick thinker, the Texan prides himself on his inability to spend too much time overthinking, kicking the other ‘man’ between the legs and pulling his axe from underneath, immediately swinging it towards Dream over and over again, the other rolling on the wet grass to avoid every single hit he has been faced with, finally blocking with his shield and sliding from between Sapnap’s legs, forcing the arsonists hand in lifting the axe and turning around, dodging the attack of the almost glowing neterite with his trusty shield.

They circle each other, Sapnap begging he won’t fall from how the wet grass feels underneath his shoes, their axes hitting each other with increasing amounts of speed in this near silence between the two, Dream completely soundless outside of his breaths and Sapnaps heart probably sounding out to both of them as they continue to hear repetitive, nearly rhythmic clings of axes hitting against each other and the thuds of shields blocking strikes instead of letting bloodshed start. Sapnap has twisted a knee and he’s pretty sure he saw Dream swallow a pained scream when his ankle turned uncomfortably against the grass but further than that most harm that they have done to each other has been blocked, most damage they have attempted to inflict has ended either in the familiar clings of neterite or the way pieces of wood fly everywhere as the shields take increasingly boosted attacks. They would’ve probably needed multiple shields if either of them had gotten any potions for themselves—the idea of Dream on a strength pot making Sapnap shiver.

It continues, blow after blow, Sapnap slowly turning sweaty and breathless as the lime creature he’s fighting seemingly shows no mercy, no loss of stamina, as if he were infinite. The thing is almost unstoppable seeming as it pulls with its shield, making him lose grip of his axe and causing it to go flying into somewhere way too far for him to go without dying to blows, Sapnap quickly grabbing his sword and blocking yet another axe attack from the beast.

He has to outsmart Dream, he realises suddenly as yet another stab of his sword breaks Dream’s shield and he just takes out a sword, blocking his attacks perfectly with clinging sounds making his ears ring. 

His chance comes once he realises that they’re next to the prison, the obsidian walls giving him a chance he can’t believe he has. It’s like most of his energy is back with a deep breath, his new objective to rid Dream of his axe at all costs then luring Dream into a fight in the box of Obsidian, the prison obviously higher security than he could possibly understand.

That’s when Dream screams, raising his axe and slamming into Sapnap’s shield to the point the wood of the thing splits, his arm getting a wound with the deep hit, bleeding onto the morning wet grass. 

And so, without a second thought, Sapnap tosses his shield aside and begins to get aggressive, the bleeding arm painless because of the adrenaline as his movements push Dream towards the prison’s opening, swords clinging and wind howling as the two neterite weapons try to match each other, their strength slightly on Dream’s side. Even if Sapnap is the kind of challenger you would never scoff at, Dream has only ever truly lost one on one to Technoblade, one of the most legendary men to walk the SMP, the god of blood as some have taken to referring to him. Nobody stands equally against Technoblade when it’s a fight between only two, nobody wins over Technoblade if the battle is equal like this. And Sapnap knows he won’t win against Dream either. Dream can go forever, he’ll tire or bleed out unless he has Dream cornered.

So this is all he has, pushing Dream towards the prison with his lesser strength in comparison to the demonic being, close to screaming just to let out more adrenaline as both their feet slide on the wet grass, everything covered by the wind. It’s as if the wind herself knew of the battle between them, screaming encouragement or booing her least favourite, whoever that maybe. Sapnap can only hope lady wind is on his side, not whispering Dream his plans. Because he knows Dream is smart, he knows Dream will catch on if he shows the slightest sign of anything but pure adrenaline.

The swords keep clashing, he keeps stepping closer to the masked being with his heart beating in his ears, his face red and his breathing jagged, his heart feeling like it may start going too fast or stop completely, perhaps simultaneously, perhaps his heart is going to split and he is going to have to deal with that.

Dream is fine though, Dream’s arms don’t shake as Sapnap clashes his sword, Dream’s arms don’t shake lifting the sword, Dream’s mask isn’t something emotions can be read from since it’s just a smile (though in his current predicament, Sapnap could definitely buy the thing underneath smiling at him to condicent him, to make him feel like there’s no struggle in fighting him).

He finally gets them into the prison, Dream catching on and immediately getting aggressive with sapnap, sliding between his legs again to escape, to lock Sapnap in—

The fishing rod, something in Sapnap’s subconscious, has grabbed the fishing rod and made sure to pull Dream from between his legs, making sure to have him on his back underneath as his sword slashes wherever he can.

The mask breaks, it splits in two and Dream lets out a nasty hiss at his predicament, raising his sword for blocking Sapnap with eyes on him in anger. They’re bloodshot, sleepless, showing habits of an animal that never rests in a body not built for such stupidity. Sapnap briefly looks over the human skin again, dry but human skin poking out from behind scales, the pieces seeming almost sweaty while dry, almost human. It almost takes Sapnap a moment to realise he has Dream in a cell, just because the horror he is looking at 

And then, after his sort of trance, he’s pulling at the fishing rod more, making Dream land further in front of him in the cell before the demonic creature can touch him, it’s sword clinging down the hall because of the shocked throw Dream tosses it with, Sapnap watching the walls around him from the corner of his eye to see how he can trap Dream inside before his eyes land on a button, a treasure in itself.

So he starts backing off, out of the cell, his fishing rod no longer attached to Dream and his sword is up—it almost feels like he will get outside and lock him in.

Before the horrifying creature screams, stands up and grabs his sword, starting to fight for the ownership of said weapon while more screaming sounds out—it’s almost agony, like there is some unbelievable pain associated with losing now, like Dream is genuinely pained at the idea of losing. And what’s worse it’s very human. The creature isn’t but the voice, like always, is only as booming as a human voice can be. The voice is only as terrifying as a human voice, the voice is only as loud as a human can go. But it’s what somehow shocks him the most, the complete and utter agony in the voice, as if everything were wrong and he were going to die if he didn’t get the sword and keep fighting.

His arms are too tired, the grip of the creature too strong, the screaming too unbearable, the shock at the humanity too complete, any of the reasons may be why he loses the fight for his own sword and watches the creature point the sharp end at him, laughing. It’s Dream’s laugh, it’s evil and fake but it’s Dream’s laugh. It’s not a genuine wheeze, it’s not humoured in the way a joke humours you, it’s humoured sadistically. It’s humoured because it wants you to be hurt. It wants to kill you, stab you, watch you bleed out at its feet.

And considering only thing Sapnap has now is a fishing rod, he is pretty sure Dream succeeding in killing him is far from an absurd concept, his best bet running back and pressing the button to block Dream in, his eyes full of fire as he tries his best to fish the neterite from Dream, to get the metal into his own hands, the weird being dodging his efforts with no effort at all, closing in on the door Sapnap is almost out of. Dream will get out before the door closes if he presses the button now.

His eyes glance between the button and Dream, begging for his brain to work fast again as the figure draws closer and closer, some switch in his brain turning on as he pushes Dream back, hitting the button and scrambling out the way as the hurried monster tries to make it through the door, screaming an ugly scream as they close in front of him, soon the sounds of a sword heard.

“Did you forget?” Sapnap asks with a laugh, the screech from Dream something else completely, human, most definitely human, but deranged and violent, coherency gone completely in favour of agony. It’s almost like a human imitation of an animal in pain or someone off their rockets making sounds, “Your spawn point sets as the cell. I wouldn’t waste the sword.”

All that sounds out is a pained wail as Sapnap leaves, closing the opening of the prison as well before disappearing towards his home, no longer hearing the wailing and whining of their antagonist.

Maybe he’ll visit, maybe someone else will visit, but he’s certainly not getting out any time soon.


End file.
